


Sleep is Not an Escape

by strongfemaleprotagonist



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dark Stiles, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, One Shot, Possessed Stiles, Protective Scott, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2014-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:59:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongfemaleprotagonist/pseuds/strongfemaleprotagonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He doesn’t remember the last time he fell asleep for more than three hours at a time, let alone voluntarily. These days it’s less of a release and more of a fall, tumbling into exhaustion as he frantically grasps at consciousness."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleep is Not an Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first EVER fic, I'm so nervous and excited and full of feelings. Ok enjoy.

Sleep is something so natural, so basically human that he’s barely ever thought about it before. As soon as the Adderall wears off he’s always slumped into bed, sometimes without even taking his clothes off. On long lacrosse bus trips, he used to fall asleep on Scott’s shoulder, until the bus jolted or Scott pushed him off with a “Gross!” after noticing the drool on his shoulder. But now Stiles is afraid of sleep.

 

He doesn’t remember the last time he fell asleep for more than three hours at a time, let alone voluntarily. These days it’s less of a release and more of a fall, tumbling into exhaustion as he frantically grasps at consciousness. For days at a time Stiles holds himself there, on the brink, convincing himself he can keep his eyes open for just a second longer, then a minute, then an hour, reminding himself what will happen if he doesn’t.

 

There are other insomniacs at Echo House. They wander like specters, pallid girls and boys with pits of shadows under their eyes, drink black coffee in the cafeteria in the morning. But they’re not like Stiles, not really. At the end of the day, no matter what they fear or what other issues they have, they really do just want to sleep.

 

That’s not what Stiles wants. He wants to fight it, because it’s the only way he knows for sure that he won’t hurt anybody else. The feeling that he might have rips like acid through his stomach every time he thinks about it. Each time he wakes up, there is a sudden jolt of guilt upon realizing what he’s done, of anger at his own body for giving in. Then he wonders what he’s done, how bad the damage is this time. Is it Lydia, maybe? Mrs. McCall, the closest thing he has to a mother? Even--he barely lets himself think this--Scott? It seems like every time the nogitsune attacks, it tries to hurt Stiles more and more profoundly, attack someone he holds closer.

 

When the door opens, he has one of those moments of panic. The echo of footsteps has begun to interrupt his cycle, and it’s the faint creak of the door and the sliver of light that follows that forces him into consciousness. Suddenly he is awake, every nerve alert and writhing and oh fuck he fell asleep again and he is dimly aware that he is screaming, the kind of fit he has every time he wakes, now, a protestation against the inevitable.

 

There’s a warmth against his back, firm hands holding him down, pinning him back into reality. And then Scott’s arms are around him, familiar and solid against his shaking sweaty frame. “It’s okay, Stiles,” he says. “You didn’t do anything. Everything’s still okay.” Stiles lets Scott embrace him, lets himself believe, for a moment, that everything is going to be okay, that even if he’s being possessed and his brain is all fucked up and he could die or kill someone at any fucking moment, things are okay. Somehow, if he believes it for Scott, it is. 

 


End file.
